Page 86 of Good Girls Beg

"Do you know what those assholes would have done to me if you did?" He wiped off excess ink before adding a little more. His arm was in the way, blocking whatever he was inking on me without my consent.

"Something you deserve," I said. What other the answer was there?

"They have the wrong idea about me," he said. "They think I'm some kind of predator."

I barked a laugh. "Why in the world would they think something like that? Oh, right. You drugged me and now you're tattooing me." I tried again to jerk away from him.

Once again, he held me firmly. "You'll mess up the design."

"The first chance I get," I said darkly.

I fucking hated the fact I liked the way the tattoo gun felt on my skin. The sting between pleasure and pain. Too much and not enough at the same time.

"You don't even know what I'm putting on you," he complained. "Wait until you see what it is."

I dropped my head back, taking the weight off my neck. It helped the ache a little bit. What I could use right now was a big bucket of water. A few sips for me and the rest of it to dump on his head. Of shove his head inside and hold him until he… Did I want him dead? That depended on a lot of things, including what he did next.

"That's better," he said. "I always find it's more comfortable if you relax."

I snorted. "You drugged me and abducted me, yet you want me to relax?"

He glanced at me and grinned again. "Exactly. I'm almost done."

"I have no idea why the other guys got the wrong impression about you," I said sarcastically.

"I know right? I'm mostly more harmless than they are. For one thing, I don't lock people in basements."

"I find that difficult to believe." I took a moment to glance around, trying to figure out where we were. Judging by the architecture and design, we were still in Saltgrave Cove. Everything had that 'been here for a hundred years' look about it.

Victor sighed heavily. "I have no idea why. I saved you from them." Was he pouting?

I picked my head back up and stared at him. "You what? I seem to remember finding you in that basement and letting you out."

"And if you hadn't done that, you'd still be there with them. You might have even…" He cupped his hand around his mouth and whispered, "Fucked them."

I shook my head and lowered it back down to the table. No, not the table. To the pillow he'd placed under my head.

"Are you out of your mind?" I asked. "I let you out of the basement." I got him out of there and he thought he'd saved me somehow? Was he unhinged?

"You're welcome." He dabbed up the tattoo again before placing the tattoo gun aside. "Just so you know, 'out of your mind’ isn't an official psychiatric diagnosis."

He lifted his hand off my knee so I could see what he tattooed on there.

"And yet, it's strangely accurate."

My skin was puckered and red, but the only thing he'd tattooed on me was a single word. 'Mine.'

"What the hell?" I leaned closer, to get a better look. The ink was written in what I guess was his handwriting, as though he'd left his signature on my skin.

"It's perfect isn't it?” he said happily. "Now none of them can touch you without seeing that on you."

"I'm not yours," I told him. "You drugged me and brought me here. Against my will. You put ink on me. Also against my will."

"There's a rule." He started to pack the tattoo gun away. Lucky for him, because if he tried to ink me anywhere else, I was going to stab him in the eyeball with it. "If you save someone from being locked in the basement by three psychotic assholes, they owe you their life."

"That's not a real rule." I drew my legs up and swung around, wondering if they'd hold me if I hopped down from the table. "Also, if it was, it doesn't include being drugged. Or kidnapped."

"You see?" He placed the tattoo gun in a box and closed the lid. "I knew you'd be a little bit reluctant and disbelieving. If I tried to explain all of this back at the ice cream parlor, you would have told me I was crazy and walked out the door. We couldn't have that happening."